


Fever

by Little Spoon (AlwaysTheLittleSpoon)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Beta Shift, Breeding Kink, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Fuck Or Die, Hurt Derek, Knotting (Mentioned), M/M, Mates (Mentioned), Mildly Dubious Consent, Poisoned Derek, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10028369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysTheLittleSpoon/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Stiles was all for rough. He loved when Derek manhandled him, showed off his strength, and left marks on his skin, but Derek had always held back. Stiles had just never realized how much... until now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up. 
> 
> I've never done explicit before. A little smutty, sure. But this is brand new territory...

Fresh out of the shower, Stiles flopped down onto the couch. He plopped his head into Derek’s lap and stretched out across the cushions, back popping pleasantly with the stretch. Burying his face in his boyfriend’s firm belly, he nosed at Derek’s sweater and wiggled until he could wrap his arms tightly around Derek’s middle. 

God, his boyfriend was comfortable.

Blunt nails scratched lightly against his scalp, and Stiles couldn’t hold back the borderline obscene moan. He nuzzled into Derek’s stomach. The hem of the thick wool sweater inched high enough for him to press the tip of his cold nose to Derek’s feverish skin. 

Perks of dating a werewolf: warmth.

Derek was Stiles’ personal radiator, which came in handing in winter when Derek smothered him in bed. He was a cuddler. Derek Hale... was a cuddler, and Stiles loved it.

Growing up in California, northern or not, Stiles wasn’t used to east coast winters, though he thoroughly enjoyed his new found love of snow. The fluffy white layer of powder covering the city hadn’t quite lost its novelty yet. Derek assured him it would soon. They’d just gotten a surprise dump of snow two days ago, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Their second together since making their relationship official in the middle of Stiles’ first semester at Columbia, and Stiles was beyond stoked because Derek had promised to wine and dine him this year.

And then, hopefully for dessert... Stiles had ideas. Many ideas. In many different positions.

Blindly groping, Stiles grabbed the remote from where it had slipped down between the couch cushions. He was going to force Derek to sit through a sappy romantic movie with him, as was his right after their romantic walk through the snow in the park. 

Or, at least it was supposed to have been romantic since chasing a siren through Central Park hadn’t been on the itinerary. 

Apparently, it had been feeding off couples when Derek and Stiles had stumbled across it. Derek had not been pleased. Consent was a big deal to Derek, and understandably so. 

If Derek’s ex had still been alive, Stiles would have ripped out her throat himself. He’d already had words with Scott about bodily autonomy and trust.

Stiles never pushed beyond what Derek was comfortable with, usually letting Derek take the lead, which Stiles enjoyed immensely because as rough and growly as Derek was normally, in bed, it got cranked to 11. Which, hell yeah.

It’d been years since Stiles tangled with anything supernatural beyond various acrobatics with his own werewolf in bed, or the nearest surface Derek happened to slam him into. A merry chase through the snow had been fun at first. He’d even gone as far as to utilize snowballs in their assault. Well, his assault.

Derek’s approach, as with anything, was all claws and grrr... which was entertaining up until the siren sprayed Derek in the face with venom. Who knew sirens were venomous? Stiles was totally off his game.

Luckily, werewolf genes seemed to trump siren venom because Derek hadn’t displayed the same signs of madness and frenzied sexual desire the other victims had.

Halfway through ‘Lost in Translation’, Stiles noticed how tense Derek was under him, and he could feel the heat of Derek’s skin through his jeans. Stiles nuzzled Derek’s leg, trying to coax him back into playing with his hair, but instead, Derek made a slightly pained sound and shifted in his seat. 

The sudden movement jostled Stiles, drawing his attention to the burgeoning erection trapped in tight denim under his cheek. “Well, if you’re that hot for my...” Stiles started as he hauled himself upright, but trailed off.

Derek’s pupils were full blown, and his cheeks flushed and damp with perspiration. Not a little damp, but sweat soaking through his t-shirt like he’d been working in the sun for hours. Except, Derek was a werewolf, and as a general rule, werewolves didn’t profusely sweat for no apparent reason.

“Der?” Stiles breathed a sigh when Derek’s attention settled on him. What he hadn’t expected was for Derek to let out a whine.

Stiles gently brushed his hand over Derek’s sweaty forehead. The damp skin burned to the touch, and not in the usual, ‘I run hotter than you’ way that Stiles loved.

“What’s going on, big guy?” Stiles asked. He didn’t really expect an answer. “You getting sick? Wait... you can’t get sick. Shit, Derek!”

Stiles leapt to his feet, pacing a little in front of the couch while the movie continued to play in the background.

“Okay. Okay. It’s going to be fine.” Stiles wrung his hands. “We’ll just get you to bed and I’ll make soup. Soup is good when you’re sick. I make awesome soup.” 

Derek’s eyes flashed the brilliant blue Stiles loved so much, and under different circumstances, would elicit a delicious response from him, but now was not one of those times. 

The bright eyes tracked his movement, and Stiles swallowed.  “Der?”

Derek keened, claws curling into the couch cushions.

“Right, okay. Up ya get, big guy.” Stiles looped his arm around Derek and hauled him off the couch. He nearly toppled to the floor when he staggered under the impressive bulk, but he caught himself on the arm of the couch.

Derek was no help. He buried his nose in Stiles’ neck, inhaling his scent, and whined. His hand eagerly running down Stiles’ chest as he moulded his body against Stiles’ side until his groping hand brushed against Stiles’ groin.

“D-derek?” Stiles sputtered. This wasn’t normal Derek behaviour.  

Derek ripped himself from Stiles’ side and stumbled back when Stiles tried to catch him. He staggered away, putting distance between them. His eyes flashed blue, and it took Stiles all of three seconds to fit together the pieces.

Derek wasn’t in control.

Growling, Derek sank his claws into the arm of the couch. “Run!”

A true testament to the trust he placed in Derek, Stiles bolted for the front door, hurtling over the back of the couch. If Derek said run, he ran. But he was only human - no match for a full grown, born beta werewolf.

Derek slammed into Stiles’s back, pinning him to the door. His erection ground into Stiles’ ass, and Stiles couldn’t help himself. He moaned. In control or not, it was still Derek.

“Stiles... you have to run. You have to run now,” Derek growled. His breath was hot against Stiles’ skin, but his hips never slowed as he rut against Stiles’ backside.

“I can’t... shit, I can’t just leave you like this,” Stiles moaned. Hips thrusting helplessly against the closed door. “I can help.”

“Stiles, baby... please,” Derek begged. But his actions contradicted him as he flipped Stiles around and hoisted him up. “I can’t hold on. I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stiles instinctively wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and whimpered. A sound so soft and needy, it spurred Derek to thrust wildly, grinding their erections together. “You can’t,” Stiles moaned. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to.”

“I’m gonna fuck you, baby. I’m gonna fuck you so good. Would you like that,” Derek cooed around his fangs.

“Oh god, yes,” Stiles moaned. His fingers dug into Derek’s shoulders. “Please, Der. Please fuck me.”

Stiles wasn’t sure when Derek had shifted. Fangs scraped against his neck, and claws bit into his hips, but he didn’t care as long as the rush of pleasure didn’t stop.

One second Stiles was pinned to the door. The next, he was bent over the back of the couch, legs spread.

“Oh, god...” Stiles hands curled around the cushions as he thrust his hips out.

Derek didn’t strip him. He literally ripped Stiles clothes off his body, completely shredding them, and Stiles shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did, but that didn’t stop him from wiggling enticingly in Derek’s direction. Derek growled, plastering himself to Stiles’ back and nosing his hair.

Between the door and the couch, Derek must have lost his pants because his bare cock rubbed between Stiles’ cheeks, slicking his hole with precum.

“Please, Der... oh god, please.” Stiles wanted it rough and dirty. He wanted to feel it the next day.

“I’m going to mount you right here,” Derek growled against Stiles’ throat. His fangs dragged across sensitive flesh, and Stiles shivered. “I’m going to knot you. Breed you-”

“Wait... what?” Stiles froze. “Knot? Is that... it that a thing? Derek?” Stiles tried to climb over the couch and escape. He managed one leg over the back of the couch, but Derek dragged him down and pinned him to the hardwood floor. “Derek! Derek, stop!”

Stiles clawed at the floor, fingers scraping uselessly at the wood as he squirmed under the assault of Derek’s tongue lapping delicately at his hole. They hadn’t been having sex all that long. Six months at most.

Derek hadn’t wanted to rush their relationship, and Stiles had agreed because, face it, neither of them had the best relationship history.

Stiles had lost his virginity in the basement of a mental institution to a were-coyote who had not been mentally mature enough to make that decision while he had been possessed by an evil spirit. And then there was the parade of death and chaotic evil that made its way into Derek’s bed.

“Gonna get your ready for me. You’re gonna take me so good,” Derek practically purred. “Gonna fill you up.”

Twisting his body until his muscles screamed in protest, Stiles kicked Derek in the face. Bone and cartilage cracked. He’d apologize later for the broken nose. Not that it wouldn’t heal. For now, Stiles needed to get to the bedroom where he kept the mountain ash.

Stiles didn’t dare look back. That would be a basic horror movie mistake. He sprinted across the apartment and skidded into the bedroom area. There were no walls or doors in their loft, just a few privacy curtains and dividers, and of course the upstairs loft bedroom they never used.

When they first moved in, Stiles thought it was awesome. Now, not so much. What he wouldn’t give for a few obstacles between him and Derek.

Thrusting his hand inside the mountain ash box, Stiles pictured a circle in his mind before he threw the black powder into the air. Seconds later, Derek slammed into the barrier and flew back several feet before landing in a heap of sweaty limbs on the floor.

Stiles sank to the floor, panting heavily. “Holy hell, dude. Not cool.”

Dried blood was caked to Derek’s face, but the nose was already healed. He whined pathetically at the rejection, mouth pulled down in a pout that was somehow amplified by his lack of eyebrows, but the image was ruined by Derek’s flushed cock dripping precum. It pooled on the floor between his thighs.

“Oh, come on, dude. You were gonna tear my ass apart with your dick, and while I get it, cuz hey, I’ve got a great ass, so not worth it,” Stiles rambled.

Derek whimpered and curled in on himself.

“Damn it.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Okay. Come here, big guy.”

Stiles beckoned Derek closer. It took several minutes of coaxing before Derek slowly shuffled across the floor. He tried to reach out for Stiles, but let out a sorrowful howl when his hand encountered the mountain ash barrier.

“How you doing, sourwolf? That looks painful.” Stiles nodded to the angry red erection hanging between Derek’s legs, and smiled when Derek nodded weakly. “Guess we know what siren venom does to werewolves now, huh?”

Stiles wanted to reach out and pet Derek, comfort him somehow, but right now, the only thing that would soothe Derek would be to release the madness. An old fashion fuck or die scenario. Stiles couldn’t risk extending a limb over the mountain ash line protecting him from being torn open on Derek’s hypothetical knot.

In all his research, Stiles had never come across anything that suggested they existed. Sure, in smutty fiction and comics, but legit sources, no.

“You wanna fuck me, big guy?” Stiles asked. He could almost see Derek’s metaphorical ears perk at the idea, and Stiles snickered. “Yeah, okay. You wanna fuck me. I get it. I’m not opposed.”

Derek rose up to his haunches and growled low in his chest. At least he wasn’t throwing himself at the barrier... yet 

“Wanna claim you.”

“Right, but if we’re gonna do this, it’s gonna be on the bed so we don’t kill my knees and back,” Stiles said. He already had enough bruises from being manhandled and slammed into various surfaces. “So, you’re going to toss me the lube and I’m gonna get myself nice and wet, cause, you now, I may love you, but it’s so not worth a torn sphincter, got it? And yes, I realized I just used the word sphincter, which is completely unsexy, but whatever. I could say anything right now, and you’d still plow my ass.”

There was that heart-clenching pout again that made Stiles groan and his heart flutter with guilt. Still, Derek appeared to have the presence of mind to shuffle over to the bedside table where they kept the lube in the drawer.

The bottle flew through the air, crossing the line, and Stiles fumbled it but saved himself when he managed to close his fingers around the bottle on the third fumble.

Stiles knelt on the floor, hair teasing the edge of the mountain ash line. It was a tight fit. The tiny circle forced him to scrunch up on his hands and knees, ass on display. Derek rumbled at the lewd presentation, hand pumping his own cock. 

Stiles’ cheeks warmed with an embarrassed, but pleased flush. It was nice to know Derek found him attractive, gangly awkward limbs and all.

Slicking up his fingers, Stiles prodded his tight hole, sinking two fingers in with ease. They had sex regularly. Sometimes several times a day. The standing record came from one glorious day spent in Derek’s loft during a visit to Beacon Hills last Christmas. Suffice it to say, prep wasn’t really required, however, lube was. He didn’t trust Derek to remember in his current state, nor were claws allowed near his sensitive bits. It was a hard rule after one unfortunate incident.

‘Slick it before you stick it’ had always been his motto. Derek smacked Stiles’ ass last time he had said it, which had brought up a whole other realm of possibilities and kinks to explore.

Derek crouched beside Stiles, panting hard, eyes glued to Stiles’ fingers as they disappeared. “Mine,” he growled around his fangs.

“That’s right, Der,” Stiles moaned. “Yours. All yours. Get on the bed, hornywolf.”

Stiles groaned as he slid his fingers out with a wet pop and a rush of sticky wetness as excess lube dribbled down his crack. Derek stared down at him from his perch on the bed. Eye glowing faintly.

“Stiles,” Derek whined. There was a tearing sound as Derek’s claws tore through the sheets. “Want... Stiles,” he growled in frustration.

Climbing shakily to his feet, Stiles swayed. Lube dripped down his inner thighs, and he could see the shift in Derek’s demeanour as his eyes darkened into clear wanton hunger. He shivered.

“Is this even right?” Stiles asked, more himself than Derek. He wasn’t sure how present Derek really was at that moment. “Can you even consent? Damn it.” He scrubbed his dry hand across his face. “Siren venom will drive you mad though... scramble your brain unless... fuck! Okay. Okay. I can do this. You tear me open with a knot, fine. You need me, and I can’t lie and say this won’t be painfully hot, but still-”

“Stiles!” Derek roared. “Need you now!”

Hands poised over the mountain ash, Stiles took a deep breath and broke the line. He didn’t have time to take a step forward. Derek yanked him onto the bed by the wrist, and he was pinned face first into the mattress beneath Derek’s bulk.

The heat was sweltering. Derek’s skin was slick with sweat and scorching hot to the touch.

Teeth clamped down on the back of Stiles’ neck, holding him in place while Derek rut against Stiles, never quite aligning to sink into the tight heat. Reaching back, arm aching at the angle, Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek and slicked his cock with lube.

Derek growled, teeth digging into Stiles’ skin, but never breaking the surface.

Lowering his hips, Stiles placed the head at the entrance to his slick hole, and Derek breached him with one fluid thrust. Stiles screamed.

His back bowed forward, hips thrust back, and fingers clawed at the mattress. He panted, short little puffs of air. He wasn’t given time to adjust. Derek set a punishing pace, pounding into him in a desperate need to wholly claim him.

Stiles was all for rough. He loved it when Derek demanded and took what he wanted. But this was different. This was animalistic. Sex between them had never been like this before. Derek always held back, and now Stiles’ understood why. His body wasn’t meant to take this amount of abuse from a superpowered supposedly mythical creature.

Stiles sobbed into the mattress, pushing back against Derek’s brutally timed thrusts as he struggled to choke down air. He didn’t care how needy he was. He craved it.

Suddenly, Stiles was empty. Muscles clenched wildly around nothing, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the loss because Derek flipped him onto his back and sank back into his tight heat. Tears stung the corners of his eyes. His body was bent near in half, knees by his head, as Derek pistoned into him at a phenomenal speed, and Stiles was reduced to nothing more than incoherent babbles and pleas, and the occasional broken cry of Derek’s name.

His nails raked down Derek’s back, leaving bloody trails that healed over in a matter of seconds. The coil of pleasure was agonizing as it built. Stiles craved release. He reached for his sorely neglected cock, but a sharp growl and slap on the back of his hand cut him off.

“No,” Derek growled and dragged Stiles up to straddle his thighs. The thrusts never stopped. Stiles weakly clutched at Derek’s shoulders. “You’re going to cum on my cock. I’m going to mark you. Claim you until you reek of me, and only me. You’re mine. Say it!”

“Y-yours!” Stiles back arched, head tilted to the side to display the long stretch of pale flesh.

Derek buried his nose in Stiles’ neck. Fangs nipping far more delicately than would be expected, as if the wolf understood his lover’s fragility. There would still be bruises. Dark fingerprints where Derek’s hands gripped at Stiles’ hips, love bites, and thin pink lines from claws dragged across pale skin.

“Cum,” Derek ordered, and Stiles eagerly obeyed.

Ropes of cum splattered between their bodies, marking Derek. The wolf rumbled with pleasure, increasing his frantic pace, driving Stiles through his orgasm until he finally buried his cock deep in Stiles’ pliant body and emptied himself with a guttural howl.

Stiles slumped weakly against Derek, his body limp, and energy nil. 

The werewolf cooed softly, cradling Stiles like something precious. He gently nosed at Stiles’ temple with a soft whine.

“I’m okay, worrywolf,” Stiles breathed, barely conscious. “Just tired.”

Derek carefully lowered Stiles to the bed, spent cock slipping free with a fresh gush of semen and lube, and Stiles sighed. No sign of a knot. But Derek caught his cum leaking out of Stiles and smeared their collective mess across Stiles’ belly, massaging it into his skin.

Stiles groaned as Derek rolled him onto his stomach. The tongue returned, Derek spreading Stiles’ cheeks with large hand and gently prodding the tender flesh. Stiles drifted off listening to the happy rumble in Derek’s chest as he contentedly licked him clean.

When Stiles came to, mind a little jumbled, light streamed through the window. He felt like he’d been tossed across the room by an angry alpha. Whimpering, he eased onto his side, muscles screaming in protest, and peered up through sleepy eyes to find Derek perched on the edge of the bed, concerned etched into his every expression.

“Hey, Der,” Stiles murmured softly, afraid his boyfriend was would bolt any moment. “Feel better?”

“Do I feel better? Stiles! I...” Derek was on the verge of tears. “Stiles... I hurt you.”

“Hey! Hey, none of that. You didn’t.... Okay, you did, but I wanted it, I swear!” Stiles rushed to sit up, but pain lanced through his body. The thing that saved him from collapsing was Derek’s arms wrapping around him.

Stiles caught a glimpse of his body when he glanced in the mirror in the corner of the makeshift room. He was covered in dark bruises. There were marks where Derek had grabbed his hips and pinned his wrists, bite marks down his neck and across his torso, and faint pink lines from claws crisscrossing his body. He could only imagine what his back looked like. His backside hurt something fierce from the marathon pounding he’d taken. Even his hips ached.

“Oh god, you are amazing,” Stiles moaned in relief. He slumped boneless against Derek as the lingering aches and pains were drawn out through black veins up Derek’s arm. “Never leave me.”

“Stiles...” Derek sounded so broken. He barely touched Stiles like he was afraid to break him. “How could you let me do that to you?”

“S’not so bad,” Stiles slurred, a little dazed now that his pain was gone. “Was good. Fucking fantastic, even. Little scary when you started going on about breeding and knots. Chalk that one up to myth. Thank god. I mean, way to scare me shitless.”

Derek clamped up, achingly rigid against Stiles. “Not a myth.”

“Huh?” Stiles found just enough energy to pull away a little in order to look at Derek, but his boyfriend refused to meet his gaze.

Derek hunched over, head bowed away from Stiles. It would almost be adorable if it wasn’t so heartbreakingly obvious Derek was scared.

Stiles gently cupped Derek’s cheek and stroked his thumb along the roughly stubbled jaw. He coaxed Derek into a sweet kiss and smiled at him in what he hoped was encouragement. “So not a myth?”

Derek shook his head, still refusing to meet Stiles’ eyes. “It’s a... it’s...”

“A mating thing,” Stiles finished for him. He dropped his hand down to Derek’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “But we weren’t mating, or mated, so it didn’t happen.”

There were an increasing number of people that seemed to be under the impression that he and Derek were mated. They weren’t, but that hadn’t stopped an old acquaintance from Derek’s past from kidnapping Stiles to use as leverage before they had even started dating. Apparently, their relationship had been a long time coming.

A sudden thought struck Stiles. His eyes widened. “Oh my god. You didn’t...” Stiles waved his hands, trying to communicate his distress but unable to force himself to say the words.

“What!” Derek’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “What are you talking about?”

“You were poisoned. The venom and the fever, and the crazy, and... and... and I took advantage of you!” Stiles’ voice rose in volume until it was nearly hysterical as he babbled in terror. He couldn’t breathe. His chest constricted as he gasped for air. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Shhh... hey. Listen to me, Stiles. Breathe,” Derek murmured in Stiles’ ear. He curled around Stiles and pressed a large hand to his chest to ground him. “I was present. I remember everything. I wanted it. Stiles... breathe, baby. I got you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Stiles gasped, struggling to calm his frantic mind. “I just... I love you so much...”

“I know, baby.” Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ temple. “ I know. I’m sorry. I never want to hurt you. Never.”

Sniffling a little, Stiles hid his face in Derek’s shoulder, curling into the warmer body. The fever was gone. Derek was back to his usual supernatural warmth.

“This is going to haunt us for awhile, isn’t it...” Stiles murmured against Derek’s throat.

Derek rested his chin on Stiles’ head. “Probably.”

“I know we had big plans this year, but... uh, you know...” Stiles trailed off when Derek squeezed him and kissed the top of his head. “I don’t think I can walk, let alone go out in public, and oh my god!” He pulled away just enough to smack Derek’s shoulder. “You just low-key Han Solo’d me!”

Derek snorted and rubbed his stubble against Stiles’ cheek. “Well, I’m definitely scruffy looking.”

“It’s a good look,” Stiles assured with a pleased grin.

“How about I make us dinner here? And, I dunno...” Derek shrugged and looked away shyly. “Cuddle on the couch?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. That sounds amazing," Stiles murmured and curled into Derek's embrace. "Plus, you just used the word cuddle in a sentence, so that’s awesome." He waggled his eyebrows, and they met halfway in a kiss, Derek ducking down to meet him with a light press of their lips together. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sourwolf. Now, carry me to the couch.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
